


Spectre of the Gun:  Bullets and Belief

by Cheree_Cargill



Series: Glimpses of a Life [51]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 16:42:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13505568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheree_Cargill/pseuds/Cheree_Cargill
Summary: The Melkots have sentenced the Enterprise officers to death ... but they're pulling the method out of Kirk's mind.





	Spectre of the Gun:  Bullets and Belief

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Cheree Cargill and is copyright (c) 2018 by Cheree Cargill. This story is Rated PG.

_Stardate:_ _4375.3_ _._ _Personal Log. First Officer Spock recording._

 

After a month of patrolling the Tellun star system following our mission to Elas, we have found no evidence of further Klingon incursions and have acknowledged the arrival of the frigate _Bradbury_ to take our place. We have received new orders to make first contact with the enigmatic Melkotians, the inhabitants of the second planet of the Theta Kiokis system. We know little about them but Starfleet Command wishes us to extend an offer for membership in the Federation, presumably because their proximity to Tellun would further deter the Klingons.

 _Stardate:_ _4379._ _5._ _Personal Log. First Officer Spock recording._

 

I should have realized from the moment we encountered the Melkotian buoy that we were dealing with powerful telepaths. The fact that the buoy's message was heard in Vulcan by myself, Swahili by Lt. Uhura, Russian by Ens. Chekov, and English by the Captain and the other members of the bridge crew, indicated a formidable race of aliens that had just explicitly told us to stay away. But our orders were unequivocal and the Captain followed them.

The Melkotian who met us was decidedly hostile and said that the method of our deaths would be pulled from the Captain's mind. We immediately found ourselves in a half-formed, surreal approximation of Tombstone, Arizona Territory of the 19th Century American frontier. With his knowledge of American history, the Captain quickly deduced that we were to be players in the so-called Gunfight at the O.K. Corral, one of the most famous incidents of that time period. Further, we quickly discovered that we were to be the "bad guys" who were killed by the town marshals, the Earp brothers and "Doc" Holliday.

I found it all hard to believe but the humans instantly accepted it as true and began to work on various plans to extricate ourselves from the coming gunfight. For a while, they persuaded me and I worked with Dr. McCoy on a gas grenade to tranquilize the Earps. When it didn't work on Mr. Scott – and I _knew_ that I had made no errors in our formulation – I realized the truth. All of this was an illusion generated by the Melkotian and it was our own minds that would kill us, not the bullets in the guns of our opponents. We had already observed this fact with the death of Mr. Chekov.

But how to convince the others? I knew the bullets would not harm me, but the humans believed in the depths of their minds. They would participate in the gunfight and they would die. The only solution seemed to be a mind-meld with each of them to induce a state of temporary stupor so that they completely ignored all that was going on around them.

To a Vulcan, the terrible intimacy of a meld is generally confined to a mate or family member. I had been forced to meld with a few humans in the past but never for this purpose. I prepared myself and began with Mr. Scott.

He was very resistant at first, his fear almost palpable. I had worked with him for three years now, but only had a working relationship with him, not a friendship as I had with the Captain and the Doctor. I had no idea what I would find within his mind. Once joined with his psyche, I discovered a sense of order and mathematical brilliance that should have surprised me, but indeed were the foundation of what made him such a superb engineer. Everything had a logical connection, mechanically fitting together and holding complete clarity to him. I also found a sense of humor, adventure, and romanticism. Had the Melkotian drawn our punishment from his mind, what would they have chosen? Would we be the English facing Robert the Bruce across the field of Bannockburn? I set him to working mentally on a complex engineering problem with the warp engines.

I moved on to Dr. McCoy. His mind was easier to inhabit and more open. His cognizance seemed to be permeated with moonlight and magnolias. Deep down, he pictured himself as a Southern colonel, sitting on a shaded porch of his plantation house, sipping a mint julep. It was ridiculously cliché and I almost stopped there, but it was only an iota of McCoy's make up. He showed himself to be a dedicated surgeon and medical researcher, able to deduce cures from pure intuition and his vast knowledge of medicine and anatomy. Curiously I probed for our punishment if drawn from his mind and unsurprisingly came upon numerous battles in the American Civil War of the 19th Century. But which side would we have been on? To McCoy, from the Southern American state of Georgia, the Confederates were naturally in the right, thus we would undoubtedly have been on the Union side, but I was unable to determine which battle it would have been. Perhaps none in particularly, just that we would have been slaughtered by the Rebels. No matter; my purpose was to shield him from any battle at all. I left him with the scenario that the ship was infected with an unknown plague and he had only hours to find a cure before the entire crew died of it.

The Captain proved the hardest of all, for it was from his mind that our current predicament was drawn. He had a belligerent and stubborn streak that prompted him to find a winning solution to all situations. I must turn him from this mindset temporarily and provide him with the truth, and I bore down hard in this task. "Shadows … illusions…" I whispered to him. "Unreal … they will not pass through you because they do not exist. _They do not exist!_ "

His daunting intelligence responded and I knew that he was ready. Unlike the others, I did not feel the need to set him a mental task. He understood and almost felt amusement at the absurdity of it all.

When the Earps and Holliday turned loose their barrage, we stood calmly watching them, unresponsive. I heard the fence behind us splinter as the supposed bullets blasted into it. It was a good illusion, but it did not affect us. Finally, they were out of ammunition and, although Wyatt stepped forward, still firing, it was to no avail. Once his pistol was empty, the Captain suddenly launched himself at the man and knocked him down, drawing his own pistol and pointing it at Earp's face.

But there was genuine fear now on the lawman's façade and I knew that it was the fear of the Melkot who was controlling this. Its scheme had failed and it knew that these humans were a race whose past violence was still there within them. But Kirk surprised it again by backing down and declaring that he refused to kill. It was not the way of the Federation.

And we found ourselves back on the bridge of the _Enterprise_ , Chekov alive and well. Thus, I wondered, had we beamed down at all? Was everything simply placed in our minds by the Melkotians? Was it just a ploy to frighten us away and leave the planet in isolation? I find this likely, for we have dealt with such telepathic races before – the Talosians, the Organians, the Metrons. Undoubtedly there are others we have yet to encounter.

I chide myself for not realizing it as soon as we arrived in "Tombstone". Although pulled from the Captain's mind, there were so many fallacies and so much wrong that it should have been unmistakable. I have done some research since our return. Although the main players were correct, there was much wrong, for the Captain had it wrong. His enjoyment of reading and watching the form of American entertainment known as Westerns informed him erroneously. The actual gunfight did not take place at the establishment known as the OK Corral. It was in an empty lot one street over from this livery stable, one of several in Tombstone. And it took place at approximately 3 p.m., not 5 p.m. as in our illusion. Ike Clanton did not die because he showed himself to be unarmed and ran from the fight, as did Billy Claiborne – Chekov in this scenario.

I cannot help but wonder what the Melkot would have pulled from my mind, had he chosen me for our punishment. Vulcan history is rife with bloody massacres and genocide. It is hard wired into our genes and abides there still. I have a horrifying image of myself, clad in ancient armor and wielding a razor sharp _lirpa_ , facing my opponent.

I have a horrifying image of myself in an arena, swinging the blade across the chest of a man clad in gold … and watching his blood spurt like liquid crimson onto the ochre sands of Vulcan.

THE END

 


End file.
